In the Red
by otakuspirit
Summary: Kyoya finds himself tormented by unrequited love and decides he's had enough. Post series finale. Canon friendly. One-shot. Suggestions of Kyoya/Tamaki and Kyoya/Haruhi.


Kyoya knew that he couldn't live like this forever. He knew that it was killing him, but - _goddammit_ \- he didn't know how to make it stop. He knew that the only way to alleviate his pain was complete and total heartbreak. Fight fire with fire. He needed to be repulsed. He needed to be turned off. He needed peace.

The poor boy would spend time with his friends in complete agony because what he wanted was right in front of him and terribly untouchable. It was taboo in so many ways. It's bad enough that he's in love with his best friend, but his best friend's _girlfriend,_ too - shit, that's going too far.

He hated himself for having feelings for Tamaki. That wasn't supposed to happen! Tamaki was just some doof that Kyoya needed for tactical purposes. They weren't even supposed to be real friends! And yet, Tamaki saw right through his self-pitying ass and opened Kyoya's world.

He was freed from having to be The Leftover. Kyoya didn't have to become a doctor or a fancy pharmaceutical rep - no, he would hold off on selling his soul for another reason, a better reason. Impressing his father became easy after that, the weight of being the third and final son in a family of overachievers became lighter, though not completely gone. It was bearable.

What Kyoya couldn't bare was realizing that his feelings for The French Clown went deeper than friendship. At first, it was like-like, then it was lust, then, it was love. Love. True, deep, meaningful, insightful, breathtaking, uncontainable love.

It was misery.

Confused and disgusted, Kyoya wanted to disappear. Why hadn't he been born into a different family? Why couldn't his father not care what his third son does? How would Ootori Yoshio, head of the Ootori family and globally respected businessman, react to the news of his son possibly being gay? That was out of the question! Impossible to fathom that a man in such high standing would have a gay son. While there was "nothing wrong with being _different_ ", it didn't mean that Ootori Yoshio would tolerate "deviant behavior" from one of his children. Kyoya knew better than to act on it, did his best to shelve his romantic feelings towards Tamaki, and just lived with it. He acted like best friends do, not wanting to give away that there may be something more than platonic love, and tried to move on. He tried.

As if he wasn't suffering enough in the midst of hiding his true feelings for Tamaki, his life was changed, yet again, when a young woman fumbled her way into his life. He didn't notice her when she first joined the Host Club, the strange crossdressing commoner that she was, but she quickly grew on him - and he did not care for that shit at all. It was already impossible for Kyoya to let people into his heart, preferring to keep the outside world at arm's length, and yet, there Haruhi was, cozy in the center of his wanting.

Was it her big, brown, doe eyes? Was it her I Don't Care What You Think of Me attitude? Was it her rare, warm smile? Was it her knack for disregarding people's influence, only noticing the goodness in their souls? How she called him out on his High and Mighty bullshit early on and just let him be real with her? Maybe. Maybe it was all of it. All he knew is that he was bothered by every interaction that she and Tamaki had.

Kyoya played it off as jealousy because his best friend and love interest was taking his attention off him. But, he was soon bothered by the aggressive way in which the Hitachiin twins flirted with her. He paid no mind to the Host Club patrons, because fanatics are fetishitsts, but when things got a little too serious between Haruhi and anyone whose crush was obvious, it bugged him. Deeply.

He spent many nights wondering why this pint-sized first year was constantly on his mind. Her actions affected him, when he was largely passive on what others did both inside and outside of the Host Club. And then it hit him. It was for the same reason that he felt resentment towards Tamaki when he was getting too chummy with anyone else. He liked her. He grew to love her. He hated himself.

How did he let this happen? Kyoya never imagined himself as a guy who would get meaningless crushes, especially on more than one person at a time, so what happened? Was he so desperate for love and approval that he clung onto anyone who validated him outside of who he was pretending to be? Or was it that these two tragically unaware people changed him? They made him want to become a better person, not just for them, but for himself. Kyoya kept the Cool Type exterior, doing what he wanted, how he wanted for the sake of the club, disregarding feelings and keeping his bi-speckled eyes on the profit, all the while, hoping to impress his best friend and this strangely fascinating nerd girl.

Realizing that he was in love with Tamaki and Haruhi _at the same time_ blew Kyoya's mind. What did this mean for his sexuality? Just as he suspected, he wasn't gay. So what was he? Bisexual? Maybe even pansexual. He didn't know, but he was simultaneously relieved and horrified. It was a lot to digest, but prefered to not put label on it and keep it in the back of his mind. His sexuality was something to be figured out for another time.

It took Kyoya weeks to stop the pain in his chest from exploding after he realized that Tamaki and Haruhi liked each other. Agonizing about what this meant for him, he did what he knew would be the best solution: renounce himself from Haruhi and Tamaki, alike. Sure, it still pained him to watch them interact, witnessing them falling further in love and vanishing out of his grasp.

He almost had her, too. In that room in Nekozawa's beach house on that stormy night. He was so close. She trusted him too much and that made him laugh. He laughed because he didn't know what else to do. She was under him and he had every intention of starting something. He wanted her. Bad. He wanted her right where she was on the mattress, wrists pinned down by his hands and their faces mere inches away from each other. And then he walked away after she challenged him. He walked away when she told him that his heart was too pure to take advantage of her. He walked away because that's not how he wanted to get her. He walked away.

Opportunities came and went with both Tamaki and Haruhi. He just couldn't bring himself to act on his true feelings and it was annoying him how they were exhibiting signs of romance while pleasantly aloof. Those fools. The warning signs were right in front of them the whole damn time! He saw how nicely they fit together and it warmed his heart to see the two people he loved the most find comfort in one another. They made a great team. Tamaki had someone who was relentlessly blunt, perfect for his Drama Queen personality. And Haruhi found someone who made her feel, who made her less apathetic and more compassionate. Yes, these two were a great pair! What a strong partnership they would have if they could just be introspective enough to realize their love for each other.

They would never know to what extents Kyoya cared for them, but Haruhi got a unique taste of it when she found out that Kyoya had been e-mailing her father behind her back (though, she found it creepy and not at all charming) and Tamaki felt Kyoya's love when he orchestrated the long-awaited reunion between mother and son, even after figuring out Suoh Yuzuru's Master Plan.

Though Kyoya knew he would never be able to express himself the way he wanted (mostly because he simply did not know how), he was able to show his friends gratitude for saving him from a distorted version of himself in his very own Kyoya way. Hell, he even helped them get together!

Even after getting them together, he still helped them along. Teaching Haruhi how to flirt back at Tamaki and having him be the flustered one, for once. Telling Tamaki to be patient with Haruhi as she worked through her emotional constipation. And his latest and final, he decided, push into adult relationships: sex.

Sex, he figured, was the one part of their relationship where Kyoya didn't see himself involved. He decided that those two could figure it out for themselves. He didn't need to or want to know about their sex life. And, yet, there he was in the aisle of a Target buying condoms for Tamaki.

Sure, he could be buying them for himself, which is what it looked like, but he had no need for them. Tamaki didn't ask him to or talk to him about having sex with Haruhi, but those two live right next to each other, with a door connecting their apartments. He knew sex was imminent, provided neither of his dear friends are sex-repulsed asexuals. They were high schoolers with surging hormones, away from home and experiencing love for the first time. It would have been irresponsible of Kyoya to not buy the condoms. He knew neither Tamaki nor Haruhi would have the foresight. Someone had to look out for them! A Host Club bastard child - over his dead body. Always be prepared.

Arriving at his apartment complex, he bypassed his temporary home, leaving his security detail behind. Instructing them not to follow him as he did what hurt and, he felt, corresponded him.

The chilly Boston air made his nose red and his skin goosebump. He was enraged that he was the one who had to protect his friends' reputation, and by extension the rest of the Host Club. It's not that he didn't trust his friends to not jump the shark, but he didn't have faith in them. Tamaki is known for getting carried away, intoxicating even the most reasonable minds to the point of ditching logic and sensibility. This was for their own good, it had to be done!

Standing outside of Tamaki's apartment, it took Kyoya several minutes to bring himself to knock, the cold breeze dancing its way down his scarf, chilling him to the bone. As if this experience needed to be more unpleasant. Getting impatient, he decided to knock once more, but before his knuckles made it to the door, Tamaki greeted him with the most absurd smile on his face. For a second, Kyoya feared he might be too late. In Panic Mode, Kyoya threw the small paper bag containing a 12-pack of rubbers into Tamaki's apartment, glared at Tamaki, and left. Nothing said, all implied.

* * *

 **TWO WEEKS LATER**

Kyoya is one for staying in shape. The treadmill and the weight room help clear his mind, which is why he goes to the gym every morning. It took him a while to get used to waking up early without feeling the need to feast on a mortal soul in order to quell his morning anger. Not a lot of people work out at the apartment complex gym at 5 A.M., just a few health buffs and himself. He learned to work out in an HOA sponsored gym, enjoying being the most attractive one there. He felt delightfully unspoiled, learning how to do as the commoners do, something that Tamaki insists they do more of since they're away from home.

At 6 A.M., he headed back to his apartment, awaiting his shower and warm breakfast that Aijima will prepare. As per usual, Tachibana opened the door for him. As per unusual, Tamaki's back faced Kyoya, hovering over a wall table scribbling on a piece of paper.

Though Kyoya had no conversation with Tamaki pertaining to his visit prior to this encounter, Kyoya knew why he was there. He just knew and his heart sank.

"What are you doing here, idiot?" Kyoya spat, discontent as to why the blond ball of energy was in his sanctuary.

Tamaki turned around excitedly, but winced at Kyoya's grimace, " _Mon ami_ , why are you in such a foul mood on this, the most beautiful morning of all mornings?" Tamaki extended his arm towards the brooding Shadow King.

"Why are you bothering me so early?" Kyoya's tone did not soften as he approached Tamaki.

Though used to his mood swings, Tamaki was disheartened to see his best friend in such a state on this most miraculous morning. He decided to take the playful, but direct route, "I just wanted to come by before Haruhi wakes up." He elbowed Kyoya with a wink.

Just then, all of Kyoya's blood boiled in a searing flash that made steam come out of his nose. His stomach twisted and his feet felt heavy. Kyoya's head spun so fast, he was sure it was to break away from his neck and launch into orbit.

They did it. They had sex. They had sex and Tamaki wasn't decent enough to keep it to himself. No, this pompous European had to flaunt it in his face and he was livid. Mt. Vesuvius ain't got nothing on Ootori Kyoya.

It took Kyoya all of his restraint to not cry on the spot. A knot formed in his throat and his palms got sweaty as he clenched his fists to control himself. Deciding not to have a meltdown just yet, Kyoya wanted to change the subject, but knew he had to deal with the conversation at hand, "What are you writing?" he asked, managing a pleasant conversational tone.

"Just a thank you note." Tamaki took the piece of paper he was writing on and plopped it into Kyoya's hand. Patting him on the back, he said, "You're a good friend." Smiling, Tamaki sauntered past Kyoya with a peppy spring in his step and left, telling his friend to get rest, "Waking up so early isn't agreeing with you, you're not a morning person." Tamaki closed the door behind him, humming a jolly tune.

Kyoya crumpled the note in his hand and threw it at the door, hoping to release his anger with that physical outburst. Useless. He growled loudly, clutched his head with both hands and fell to his knees, his glasses dangerously close to slipping off his nose.

Tachibana rushed to him, asking him if he was alright. Kyoya was certainly not alright. He wasn't alright at all. He was hurt and he didn't know why. His confusion made him angrier, causing him to snap at his bodyguard, "Leave me!"

Tachibana cautiously backed away, making Kyoya realize the scene he caused,

"Forgive me, Tachibana," he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and rose from the floor, "I'll be in my room." He walked into his bedroom and shut the door, defeated.

For a moment, he considered getting back into bed, but ditched the idea since he was still damp with sweat and did not feel like ruining the clean set of sheets he had changed yesterday. Still scowling, he dragged himself into the ensuite to shower. Impatiently, he flung his clothes off and threw them into the hamper with all his might. His emotions were flooding his brain. Tears welled up in his eyes, which he washed away with the water stream from the showerhead.

Kyoya felt jealous. He was jealous of Tamaki, who had bedded the girl of his dreams. He was jealous of Haruhi, who had, in turn, had sex with the love of his life. He wanted to be Tamaki's first. _He_ wanted to be Haruhi's first. He wanted their kisses and to learn the terrains of their bodies before anyone had ever touched them. The prospect of having something that many covet first was so appealing to him. Now, it was ruined and he was upset.

He felt angry that either of these people could be his, but he walked away because it was for the greater good or some martyr bullshit. Why couldn't he just confess to one or the other or both? Polyamory is a thing, after all. Surely, these open-minded people could make it work. His missed opportunities left him dejected.

He felt sad because his friends were more in love than ever, making it unlikely that they would break up. First love is an electric feeling. Its addictive and pure. They would only want more of each other from now on, craving to explore the new life behind Tamaki's bedroom door. From now on, Kyoya would sit alone in his bedroom, repressing his fantasies.

Lastly, he felt responsible. He was the one who bowed out first. He was the one who helped them become a couple. He was the one who knew them so well that he gave them tips on how to make it work. He was the one who bought them the condoms. What did he think was going to happen? They sure as hell weren't going to be making balloon animals. He had no one to blame but himself. It nauseated him.

The anger built up in Kyoya's chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Why can't he just be happy for his friends? They work so well. Everyone wants to emulate them. Even Hikaru seems okay with it now. Why can't he be? Why can't he just move on? The questions swirled around in his head, making shampooing his hair function as both Cleaning Time and Head Massage Time. Rinsing the product out of his hair, Kyoya slowly backed up into his shower wall and slid down. He sat on the floor as the hot water drizzled over him, breathing in steam. Slouched and dehydrated, Kyoya couldn't find the will to get up. He managed to turn off the water and sat there brooding.

Eventually, he was able to stand without falling. Though still a bit sudsy, Kyoya grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. It took him a while to make it back into his room. Falling onto the bed with a soft thud, the sad boy dampened the comforter beneath him. He didn't care. He was too upset to care about anything that wasn't the hurricane inside his body.

On his back with his arms stretched at his side, Kyoya looked up at the ceiling of his room and cried. He cried and the release was bittersweet. He cried for himself, a confused, lonely teenager who wanted nothing more in the world than to be held and loved like he deserved to be. He cried because the two people who he wanted to hold him were holding each other. He cried because he was tired of looking out for other people and leaving himself behind. Kyoya had had enough.

After a few minutes, his sobs became soft whimpers, then ceased entirely. A naked boy lay on his bed catching his breath. He thought of that image. _Pathetic._

Kyoya disgusted himself.

In a flash of mixed emotions, he swiftly jumped off the bed and stormed into his closet. Now fully dry, he dressed himself as his concoction of negative feelings turned into resolve, he wasn't going to let this beat him. No, this wasn't even a setback - it was a catalyst!

In a matter of seconds, he made up his mind. Kyoya needed peace and he was going to get it. Distance! That was what he needed. After this year, his friends would all fly back to Japan for college. Not him. No. He would stay in the US to get his MBA; he was already flirting with this idea, so it wasn't too dramatic. No one would try to stop him, it's not like he decided to move to some remote village in the middle of nowhere and become an alpaca farmer.

Even though he just wanted time to stop, Kyoya started his day. He opened the door into his living room where his three bodyguards pretended not to be suspicious of his emotional health. Deciding to put an end to this morning's torment, Kyoya went to the door to pick up the crumpled piece of paper that sat there, mocking him.

Taking it in his hands, Kyoya impatiently opened the offending scrap and was pleasantly surprised at what he saw. In a classic Tamaki fashion, his Thank You Note was a coupon for a favor. Instantly, Kyoya knew what that favor would be. He went to his hall table and grabbed a pen. On the dotted line provided, Kyoya wrote: _Don't ask me to go back._

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Part 2 of The Boston Collective.

This little thing came about after rereading Ouran last May. I remember paying extra attention to Kyoya since he was one of my favorite characters. I was very observant of his behavior, especially when it came to his interactions with Tamaki and Haruhi. Anyway, this is the result of a sleepless summer night with way too much on my mind.

If you read all the way to the end, please review :)

 _s/o to Big Mama Rain Bear, who helped me perfect this, and to Chibiwawa who keep me real._


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